The Glass Heart
by HetaliaLover1015
Summary: While taking a trip to Britain, Allen Willson goes to a local pub. He didn't know that a young but surprisingly handsome Englishman named Oliver Jackson awaited him, drinking his bottle of ale. The American makes eye contact, and so does the Brit. The American blushes and stares into Oliver's striking crystal blue eyes. Love at first sight? Who knows! Read to find out!


**The Glass Heart**

An Oliver and Allen Story

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Chapter 1: A Brit and an American

Not too long ago, I met a man named Oliver. He never told me his middle name, nor his last name; he just said Oliver. He blew me away with his thick British accent, his crystal blue eyes... Not to mention his platinum blonde hair! It was a few brief seconds before our eyes had locked together. A bright red blush slowly crept onto my face as my bright blue eyes stayed attached with his. He had blinked and looked away, a blush as red as roses on his cheeks. He stayed silent for a minute or two before sipping his bottle of ale. Yes, I was at a British pub. I was taking a trip with my brother, Mattvi, and I had told him I would be out drinking. I had almost forgot I was in Britain until I saw the pub. I walked inside, sat down, and met the Brit in a matter of seconds.

I hadn't gotten anything to drink yet, so the bar tender (in this case "pub" tender) tapped my shoulder, his face showing no emotion. I looked at him- his chin covered in a light stubble- and blinked. His sleek black hair was tied into a small ponytail, and his dark brown eyes felt as though they were piercing through my skull. I gulped nervously, since I had no idea what to say or do. He still hadn't asked any questions, nor what I wanted to drink. He then snapped his fingers, which caused me to snap back into reality.

"You goin' to get somethin' to drink?" he asked, his dark brown eyes locked onto my young-looking face.

"Uh..," I said blankly, blushing a little more, "No, uh, I'm just here with him!" I quickly said, pointing at Oliver. The Englishman spit his ale out and looked at me, his face covered in shock and disgust.

"I beg your pardon... But I don't even know you!" he said in a cross tone. I blushed in embarrassment as drunken laughs filled the room.

"What a bloody idiot! He doesn't know who the hell he's talkin' too!" one man said. More men laughed as Oliver looked down, blushing in embarrassment. I felt bad for him. All he was doing was sitting there, drinking his ale, and I ruined his peace by getting him into a situation.

"Eh, Oliver? Make friends with him! He must be very lonely!" another man said tauntingly in a thick Irish accent. He snickered afterwards and caused me to twitch. He had just taunted both off us (which didn't surprise me, since he was drunk) and I was left to gape at everyone who started laughing at his dumb taunt. Oliver then blushed. Now that he had gotten into a situation, I knew he had no choice but to make friends with me. I frowned and growled as more drunken laughs filled the room.

"Oi... Um.. W-want to b-be friends?" he asked nervously. I looked around, shivering slightly, and sighed. I didn't know what to say, so I pulled my shotgun out. I pointed it as the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The bang caused everyone to hush. They looked at me and Oliver. I grinned and replied, "Sure, pal, sure!" After a few seconds of realization, Oliver smiled and hugged me. I grinned and hugged back. His warmth that emitted from his body soothed me, and I felt as though I could fall asleep. Slowly, we realized the embrace lasted longer than we expected, because Oliver's Pub closed down thirty minutes into our embrace. My, how time flies by. I let go of Oliver and waved.

"Bye, Oliver! I'll be here tomorrow!" I yelled happily. He waved and smiled, cleaning off the marble counter with green-brown washcloth. I walked out the door and listened to it shut. I then walked away from the shut door and started heading back to the hotel where Mattvi and I were staying. I looked at my watch. Great, it was 10:34. I hated getting home late (though it wasn't home). Once I did get home, Mattvi was asleep- on a bed- in his Canadian flag-printed boxers. I sighed and shut the light off, getting out of my clothes and into my American flag-printed boxers. My phone- which was on the table- buzzed and showed a text from someone I hadn't given my phone number too. I curiously picked up the phone, reading the text. I said the words softly to myself,  
"'ello, Allen. This is Oliver!" I coughed, "I found a slip of paper with your number on it!" That freaked me out a little. From what I could remember, I had never written down my phone number on any form of paper. I didn't even have a writing utensil! I cocked my head to the side and replied.

"First of all- how do ya know my name? And second of all- where'd ya get my number from? I never wrote it down, nor did I have anything to write with!" said out loud, er, loudly. Mattvi opened his soft brown eyes. He yawned and looked at me.

"Could you please be quiet?" he asked softly. I looked at him, blushed, and nodded.

"Sorry, Mattie!" I said in response. He smiled, falling asleep a few moments later. I moaned and walked over to my bed in my room I was sleeping in. The phone buzzed again.

"I asked the pub-tender! He told me and I texted you! Oh, also... Can you come over tomorrow? I live in the house down the street from your hotel!" I blushed as red as a tomato. Come over!? Is he crazy? Well, now that I think about it, maybe I'm the crazy one! Who knows. Finally, after thinking for a few minutes, I replied with, "Yes."

 **((Hi! So, review! Tell me what you think I should improve or get rid off! Also, this is not related to Hetalia! I'm just introducing my characters while I work on the official story! Thank you, [insert random name here]!))**


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